Being valentine’s season it seemed like a good time to write about love. I’ve had a rocky affair with love my entire life. At times I’ve broken up with love, screaming at it
that it was a liar, a betrayer, a fairy tale. At other times I’ve been so infatuated with love that it took over my life.
What I’m coming to believe is that love is another one of those mysteries. Life is a mystery. Consciousness is a mystery. The nature of reality is a mystery. We quantify what we can, measure hormones, quarks, particles, and brain waves, and still we have no idea what the hell is going on.
There have been a few times I’ve what I know is pure love, with the two births of my children always at the top of the list, and with my granddaughter who shared her love with me in dreams before she was born.
Now, in a twisted, surprising turn of events, I’ve felt it again. After a year long battle with my now ex-husband to get him to “give” me a divorce, (Give me? What does that mean?) I learned to truly, deeply forgive. I forgave him, forgave myself, let him go in peace, and let go of what I was fearing. When the fear and anger dropped away, love was revealed. That thing, love, at the core of our attraction, beneath the dysfunction, fear, tons of emotional scarring and baggage, was still there. We found ourselves both changed, broken open, and able to have the heart wrenching discussions we were supposed to be having in our marriage. Who knew.
Now we have separate lives, separate beds, and separate incomes. The divorce was a gift of love. I feel a strength and solidness in myself I’ve never felt, that allows me to love him from a place of freedom instead of need. I don’t need to change him, fix him, or get him to do things I think are important. And to answer the question, yes, I’m still single.
The universe heard me asking over and over, why does getting a divorce mean you have to hate the other person? It’s true, be careful what you ask for. Now I’m getting a chance to live the answer.